yo·gaˈyōgə/nounnoun: Origin Sanskrit: yoga, literally ‘union.’

What's in a name? A memory. The power to evoke a feeling. An announcement. A statement. A revelation. When I arrived at the blog page for my website, I knew I wanted a name not only reflective of myself, but of yoga. To represent yoga it needed to be dualistic. Playful and spiritual, old but new, flexible but strong. To represent me, it needed to house part of my personal history. 
During teacher training a myriad of books were recommended for further reading.  One of those books was Yogini by Janice Gates.  I knew immediately while leafing through the pages that I wanted to read this book.  I ordered it from Amazon shortly after finishing my training. 
The book itself is beautiful, but the contents are more so, chronicling the history of women in yoga before delving into individual profiles of some of the most influential female yogis throughout history and modern times.  Beyond the inspiring stories and messages of the yoginis profiled, the book left me with a sense of wonder at the ancient science of yoga coming full circle as women become more influential on the practice, which was originally only accessible to men. Yoga, like all things in life, has improved with the balancing of masculine and feminine aspects.  I found a humbleness taking up residence in my soul to be graced with the opportunity to experience yoga at a time when it is influenced so deeply by feminine energy.  To be able to call myself a yogini and join in the collective energy of female practitioners.
Rewind twenty-five years to a little girl running into her Grandparents' house.  Her Grandpa sits at the end of the table in an oak chair.  He's leaning back, the chair balanced on its back two legs, the trim on the wall behind him dented from years of this habit.  A hand rolled cigarette is perched between the middle and pointer fingers of his right hand, which rests casually on the chair's arm rest.  A crooked smile graces his lips and in a rich, deep voice that resonates from his chest he sings Coraley-ley-ley, la ley-ley-ley, la lie.  
It has been fifteen years since my Grandpa passed away and I can still hear his voice singing that song to me as though he is sitting right next to me.  There are days where the memory of this song pops into my head unbidden and draws forth a smile to my face as easily as it did when I was seven.  Like magic my Grandfather's voice lives inside of me, untouched by the passing of time. Untouched by the passing of his physical body into the universal consciousness. 
So what's in a name?  A glimpse into the tiny little, gloriously fragmented, mismatched yet somehow wonderfully cohesive pieces of a life; the melting point between the history of the yogini and the history of my life.  A union.

Four of my favourite things, all together in one event. I'm going, are you? http://abdou.ca/relaxintothepage/

A few weeks ago I taught a karma class at Essential Yoga.  Usually in the days leading up to a class I feel alight with creative energy.  Bursting with ideas, my flows come organically and there is no shortage of both asana and philosophy to be woven together into a class plan.  The lead up to this class was different. Suffering from an anaphylactic attack the week before, my body was worn out and my energy levels sapped.  The upcoming class was on my mind and was something I was looking forward to.  I wanted to feel the zeal I usually did when given the chance to teach, but it just wasn't happening.  I devoted a significant portion of time every day to reading yoga philosophy, and while the philosophical inspiration was abundant, the asana flow still wouldn't come. As my class approached, I decided to re-use a lesson plan from the previous month.  I wove a different set of philosophical teachings in and made a few other adjustments, but for the most part, it was the same.  When class time arrived I found that the buzzing vibrations I usually get while teaching were absent.  Part of my mind was distracted with the idea that I wasn't giving the students enough because I hadn't designed a flow specifically for the philosophy and intention of the class.  My confidence in my plan shaken, I glanced at my lesson plan often and stumbled a bit over my words as I guided them from posture to posture.  As class closed, I spoke again on the theme, which was finding focus on yoga as a journey inward.  The words came from the heart and they flowed organically and easily, but I wasn't focused on that, and as I left the room I felt a bit downtrodden, as though I had failed the students who'd come to practice that night.  And then the first student came floating out of the room.  Her face was aglow, her steps light and airy.  A smile emanated from her very being, not merely from her lips.  "Thank you, that was amazing" she breathed the words out melodically.  A spark of humble gratitude lit my heart centre.  I hadn't been listening to my own philosophy lesson.  Yoga is about working inward, not working outward.  The postures were secondary to the energy that we had created together in class.  It was the internal focus that was important, not the flow.  It was my turn to smile with my whole being as a thank you graced my lips.  As always, teaching affords so many chances to grow and learn if we keep our hearts humble and our ears and eyes open.  I bowed internally to the yogi who had come to my class as a student and emerged from her practice that day as my teacher.

Imported from my shawwebmail account.  Original post published there on January 24, 2014

Yesterday I had a day filled with yoga... er, sort of.  My afternoon was devoted to the business end of yoga.  Many people go to yoga classes to release the stress from their work life, but yesterday I found myself enraptured in joy and relaxation while taking care of business.  It was a wonderful and welcome change and a feeling I have not had occasion to enjoy with my past work.

The first item of the day was a meeting at Freshies for Fernie's upcoming yoga and wellness festival Feel Good Fernie.  It is always an amazing and full-filling feeling to be working with a group of like-minded people towards a goal or event and this was no exception.  It's going to be a wonderful festival with yoga, health and wellness practitioners, markets, a world record attempt for the longest yoga chain and so much more! Save the weekend of July 12th and 13th and come feel good in Fernie.

I had back to back meetings and while I was looking forward to the second one, I was also a bit apprehensive.  I was meeting with a photographer to do some yoga photos.  I had suggested that we do them outside.  I know EVERYONE does their yoga photos outdoors, but I thought that this would give me a bit of an edge, seeing as its the middle of winter in the Canadian Rockies (brrrr!)  Weather challenges aside, I experienced even more trepidation when Emily, the beautiful, boisterous and brilliant, photographer, immediately suggested that I plop my mat down in the middle of (a very busy) main street to take a photo with the historical town center (see the view she was going for here) as the back-drop. I meekly suggested we try the sidewalk instead.  Emily humoured me for a shot or two and then announced she was going to "bully" me into it. By  bully she meant picking up my mat and plopping it down where she wanted it.  I shuffled out to save my mat from being run over by traffic and began to strike Emily's requested pose of dancer.  Traffic was stopped, pedestrians were staring and commenting and an unexpected and wonderful thing happened - I found some stillness and one pointed concentration in my pose.  By the time Emily had the shot, my trepidation had given away to exhilaration.  Not only had I braved traffic to get a great photo, but I'd found quietness of mind in less than ideal conditions! My yogic journey continued throughout the shoot.  I noticed that, despite my worries about doing poses in non-outdoors wear and bare feet in winter, my body readily opened where I asked it to.  I relished the challenges and adjustments that needed to happen with practising in unusual spaces - from balancing on boulders, to sinking into snow, to the unsteady feeling I experienced looking up in triangle without the corners and edges of walls and ceilings to ground my perception. And if a pose wasn't technically perfect for all of my best efforts, I let striving for technique go.  By the end of our shoot, as I was rocking king pigeon in a creek bed wearing nothing but a tank top and leggings, I wasn't even noticing the cold.  Instead I was overcome with the feeling that the "photoshoot" was one of the best practices I'd had.  Ever. Face-plant into the snow and subsequent laughter during crow absolutely included <3

See the pictures from my shoot with Emily on my website www.coraleyletcher.com